Comatose
by TheSilverHunt3r
Summary: The shower of bullets was directed back to the men, surrounded by a red glow. Mimic would fall tonight. Dazai and Chuuya centric, sort of Beast ‘Verse, oneshot.


Summary: The shower of bullets was directed back to the men, surrounded by a red glow. Mimic would fall tonight. Dazai and Chuuya centric, sort of Beast 'Verse, oneshot.

The shower of bullets was directed back to the men, surrounded by a red glow.

Mimic would fall tonight.

Chuuya strode through the house with an almost absentminded confidence. He wasn't worried about the grunts of Mimic, not at all. They were small fry, almost stupidly easy to kill.

"Gide-san," Chuuya greeted as he stepped into the hall.

This was a suicide mission. But he knew that.

XXX

"Dazai, what happened?" was the first thing Oda asked upon seeing his friend.

"Leave," Dazai advised. He looked serious, completely serious. The usual playful air he had about him, the slightly cocky smile… was missing. It was gone, like it had been stolen and the thief had fled into the night, never to been found even by him.

Oda turned his head, confused. "Leave?"

Dazai heaved a long sigh, a depressing sound that turned the room darker. "You don't belong here. So leave. I'll make sure they don't find you."

"Okay," Oda agreed. Safe passage out of the Port Mafia was not something he would argue with. He frowned. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. I have to take care of… some things." Dazai smiled, trying to reassure him.

It was either a half-hearted attempt at a smile, or something so earth-shattering had happened that Dazai simply couldn't put up his mask of happiness.

Odasaku felt like it was the latter. "If you want to talk," he paused, "if you need to talk, my door is always open for you."

"Thanks for the offer, Odasaku. I suggest you start packing; You should leave before tomorrow." Dazai downed the rest of his whiskey and left. The only thing to show he had been there was a used glass and a small pile of yen notes, enough to pay for both of them.

XXX

Chuuya's normal clothes had been folded up and put away. The exceptions were his choker, gloves, and hat. The three ordinary objects sat on the brown wooden table next to the bed. Dazai tried to focus on them, the few normal things left in the room.

Dazai put it off as long as he could. He let his gaze trail to the left, settling on the bright red hair that stood out amongst the white.

Chuuya was in the hospital bed. His eyes were closed. He was breathing normally-he didn't need help yet, but his breaths were shallower than they should be, Dazai knew just from hearing them. There was no expression on Chuuya's face, not a smile, not a frown, simply a blank nothing.

It felt wrong to see this. To see Chuuya like this. Even while asleep, Chuuya had always held some semblance of emotion or movement.

Dazai brushed shoulders with death like best friends and cloaked himself in cold despair. Opposingly, Chuuya emmanated warmth, a fiery will that refused to falter and would never consider giving up a viable option.

This was how it had always been.

But, it was not how it was now.

Dazai started as someone touched his shoulder.

Mori forewent a greeting-they were both pragmatic people and the situation didn't call for formality. "I've stabilised him, but he doesn't seem to be waking up."

"He's fallen into a coma?" Dazai already knew. But he didn't want to believe it. For the first time, he wanted his conclusion to be wrong.

"Yes, unfortunately."

Dazai relaxed his shoulders. He wanted Mori to let down his guard, catch his mentor flat-footed. That was the only way of getting a genuine reaction from Mori. He turned slightly towards his mentor so that he could see him better. First was the obvious question. "Mori-san, why'd you tell Chuuya about Mimic?" He asked, in a purely curious tone.

Mori's purple eyes moved to Dazai.

"He asked, laid out what everyone was planning, and said he'd take care of them." He frowned, remarking quietly, "Perhaps I had too much faith in his abilities."

Dazai nodded. He waited a few seconds, let the silence grow uncomfortably loud to both of them. They were players-when people said something, did something, they showed their hand. So he let the tension grow. He had to ask, he had to know. "Did you plan this to happen?"

"No."

It was true. Dazai knew. He knew how to spot Mori lying in the same way Mori knew how to catch Dazai lying. If it wasn't the full truth… it didn't matter. Mori hadn't intended for Chuuya to get caught up in the crossover of his plans, and that was enough.

Mori sighed. He squeezed Dazai's shoulder for a moment, before letting go completely, a partially successful attempt at comfort, at reminding Dazai that he wasn't alone. "Take the rest of the day off. I'll deal with whatever catastrophe happened in our absence."

With the silence and no distracting thoughts like the possibility of revenge against Mori, there was nothing to distract Dazai from the hollow in his chest. The sort of numb feeling that had invaded his body. The bitter acid in his mouth.

Dazai felt the urge to grind his teeth together. He had his pride. But there was nothing to be done. When one had this feeling of inevitable dread and failure, one went to look for the spider thread of hope. "Can you think of any ability that could help?"

"Yosano seems like a possibility at first. But I know the specifics of her ability, Thou Shalt Not Die, and it wouldn't work. She can't heal someone's mind, only their body."

"And?"

Mori tilted his head and supplied, "There is, supposedly, a legendary book that can change reality and is hidden in Yokohama."

"Anything?" Dazai asked as he stepped closer to Chuuya's bed. His eyes weren't on his fallen partner-instead, they were back to ignoring Chuuya's pitiful state and focused on something else.

"Anything," Mori confirmed.

Dazai picked up Chuuya's hat. He ran his fingers over the golden ink on the inside rim. Rimbaud, the letters spelled out. He put on the hat and sighed, a smirk curled on his face. "Well, I guess I'm going on a goose hunt."

XXX

Four years later

A tiger jumped from a wall. A boy's coat formed into a gaping maw of a red and black beast. The alleyway was full of bullet casings and occasionally splattered with blood.

Dazai interfered. He tapped the weretiger, allowing the boy to fall to the ground unhindered. He cuffed Akutagawa on the head. "You have got to learn to know when you've been beaten, Akutagawa-kun," he advised as he turned around. "Hey, Odasaku, how have you been?"

"Well," Oda politely replied. He stood at the entrance to the alleyway, not looking the slightest bit concerned about the state of the place. He had seen worse. "Yourself?"

Dazai smiled. "Pretty good. I made some progress on things."

Oda nodded. He looked past Dazai, his gaze landing on the bloodstained bodies of the Tanizaki siblings. "I'm here for my coworkers."

"Of course," Dazai chirped. He clapped his friend on the shoulder as he walked past, and Akutagawa followed like a sulking animal. "See you around, Odasaku."

XXX

Chuuya was in a coma for years. That was saying the obvious. But few would think of what that state would do to his body.

Dazai didn't like visiting.

Chuuya's muscles had atrophied from disuse. There was no way to pretend that everything was fine and that he might wake up any minute, not anymore. Not when he looked like this.

His body had the sagging skin of a hundred-year-old man. His cheeks were sunken. His hair was greasy. His arms and legs were sticks with flabs of skin underneath, thin to the point of being disturbing to look at.

Dazai snorted, finding a sort of dark humor amidst his feelings of disgust and denial.

If Chuuya woke up like this, he would be appalled. His body was his greatest weapon. He trained almost constantly to maintain his frankly absurd level of fitness and skill.

Dazai's smile slid down into a frown. He didn't like visiting, but he forced himself to every now and then, to see if there was any change.

There was none. There never was any positive change.

Dazai looked away, turning his focus to the bedside table. The drawers contained some of Chuuya's personal effects, like his gloves, knife, and clothing.

There was an intricate glass vase on the table. He replaced the wilted daffodils with a fresh bouquet. Kouyou had sent them with Dazai. They weren't store-bought; They were always flowers from her garden.

Dazai looked at the wilted daffodils in his hand. Their stems were a green-grey, the ends dripping water onto the floor. The petals were still yellow, but had shrunk as it died.

He didn't like the parallels his mind was drawing between the previously vibrant flowers and his previously vibrant partner.

He walked over to the trash can and threw out the daffodils, glancing over his shoulder as he left.

The daffodils were dead. His partner wasn't.

And like h*ll he was going to stand around and wait for the Book to come to him. If he didn't have any leads, he would find some. Chuuya was going to come back.

XXX

Chuuya's dreams were odd. They had always been odd, a by-product of him not being human, but these took the cake.

He saw things: a cat that was a person, a tiger that was a person, Dazai and Oda facing off against what looked to be some kind of eldritch horror, a giant whale almost crashing into Yokohama, Dazai facing off against a Russian-both were imprisoned somewhere in Europe...

It was a shame he wouldn't remember any of it. . . If he woke up.

XXX

"Put it on." Dazai held out a blue coat with a furred collar.

Atsushi complied, slipping it on. It fit perfectly. He guessed that it was made from the body measurements he had been forced through on his first day. "Umm, Dazai-san, why'd you give me this?"

"When you bring someone into the Port Mafia, you give them something." Dazai absently picked at a loose thread on his black trench coat.

"Mori-san agreed to putting me in charge of the member I chose to poach from the Agency."

Atsushi started. He had his hands in his new coat pockets, clenched not out of anger but out of fear. "You chose me? Why?"

Dazai smiled-it was fake, but it would fool most people. "I've been searching for something, and I want you to help me find it. When I have what I want, I'll let you leave. You could even go back to the Agency."

"I can leave?" Atsushi questioned. He was relieved and hopeful-a smile spread across his face. A path back to the Agency had been dangled in front of him; He would jump for it with everything he had.

Dazai's smile gained a touch of genuine amusement. Atsushi was even more naive than he had expected. "Yes, I will let you go back to the Agency if you want."

Atsushi froze. He suddenly realized what position he was in, really in. He had no way to refuse, not if he wanted to live. And Dazai might being lying… he instinctively dismissed the idea. Odasaku had told him that Dazai didn't lie in negotiations. Odasaku had told him a lot of things about Dazai, because Atsushi was curious about his superior's old friend in the Port Mafia.

"And what do I have to do?" Atsushi quietly asked, in a subdued tone.

Dazai nonchalantly waved a hand. "Oh, I just need help finding a certain object, a book."

Atsushi had a feeling deep in his bones that it was more than just a book. But he had no choice in this, not if he wanted to go home.

XXX

They sat at a table.

Fyodor stared at him. He had a gun to his forehead.

The black pistol was held by Dazai. It was a bit awkward to write with one hand at this angle. He used his wrist to keep the page still. In his scratchy handwriting, he scrawled:

Chuuya Nakahara will be restored to what he was physically and mentally four years, eight months, and twenty-two days ago.

Fyodor smiled. "The Book balances accounts," he stated. He tilted his head. Curiosity slipped into his tone as he said, "I wonder what will happen?"

"I'm willing to deal with whatever happens as consequence." Dazai smiled back, a hint of malevolence in the expression that equally matched his rival's. "Our games have been fun-I'm almost sorry to have won." He pulled the trigger.

XXX

Chuuya had changed into his regular clothes before Dazai got there. He was slipping on his gloves when Dazai walked in. Chuuya turned around, a frown on his face. "Dazai, how the f*ck am I still alive? I got peppered with bullets. My internal organs should be a shredded pulp."

Dazai grinned. He perched on Chuuya's bed. "Mori managed it, somehow. You've missed a lot, so I'll be merciful and fill you in."

Chuuya was quiet for a few seconds. He'd missed a lot? He somehow knew he had missed a lot, because he remembered blurry images of… He didn't know what. "How long was I out?"

Dazai stretched out the sentence in a cheerful and dramatic fashion. "You were in a coma for, get this, four years."

"Four years," Chuuya repeated. Dazai wasn't lying, Chuuya knew his partner, but that wasn't right. If he had been in a coma for four years, his physical state should be… well, dilapidated. He shouldn't feel like he only went to sleep for a night and woke up feeling well rested. Okay, maybe he should feel well rested, he had never been in a coma before, but he knew he shouldn't still be in top condition, feeling like he could easily put large craters into concrete with his bare hands like usual. "Dazai, what'd you do?"

"Hmm. Something," Dazai replied vaguely.

"Cut the bulls*it Dazai," Chuuya snapped. He held up a fist, a threat. He could and would put Dazai through the wall, even without the help of his ability.

Dazai backed up. He held his hands up, palms out, a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay."

"Well?" Chuuya impatiently asked.

"Four years ago, I found out about this book that can change reality. So I found it, used it, and here we are." Dazai shrugged.

Chuuya frowned. He stared at the floor as he forced out one word. "...Thanks."

"What? I couldn't hear that?" Dazai asked innocently, a gleam of mischief in his eyes that he couldn't mask.

"Thanks!" Chuuya shouted, his tone full of annoyance instead of gratitude.

Dazai smiled. "You're welcome," he sang.

Chuuya stiffened in outrage. "Dazai, is that my hat?" He tersely questioned.

Dazai shrugged. He had been waiting for Chuuya to notice. "I was taking care of it while you were gone." He plopped the hat on his partner's head, where it belonged.

A/N

What would happen if Chuuya fought Mimic and/or Chuuya got put in a coma? This is my answer. Dazai would wreck people and get the Book to save his *cough*bestfriend*cough* partner.

-Silver


End file.
